Buoy the population of the soul
Toward their destination before they drown
~ Robert Pinsky
April 2021
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Monday, 30. December 2002

Exile - Hart Crane

My hands have not touched pleasure since your hands, --
No, -- nor my lips freed laughter since 'farewell',
And with the day, distance again expands
Voiceless between us, as an uncoiled shell.

Yet, love endures, though starving and alone.
A dove's wings clung about my heart each night
With surging gentleness, and the blue stone

Set in the tryst-ring has but worn more bright.

I was reading Hart Crane today at Borders even though at the end it was too painful to read the next word in each line. He is a poet I had never read and I think who should be read. Consider these lines and go onto voyages into Crane's poetry and life:

And so, admitted through black swollen gates
That must arrest all distance otherwise
Past whirling pillars and lithe pediments,
Light wrestling there incessantly with light,
Star kissing star through wave on wave onto
Your body rocking! and where death, if shed;
Presumes no carnage, but this single change --
Upon the steep floor flung from dawn to dawn
The silken skilled transmemberment of song;
Permit me voyage, love, into your hands .

Big Book Of Poetry

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